


twisted obsessions

by Larrant



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, I accidentally orphaned an account, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, SO, and, here it is reposted, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larrant/pseuds/Larrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrell is a man who does not like being refused. When he asks, he expects to be obeyed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	twisted obsessions

**Author's Note:**

> SO I TRIED TO DELETE MY PSEUD  
> BUT I ENDED UP ORPHANING THE WORKS INSTEAD  
> I'M SORRY.

Tyrell is a man who does not like being refused. When he asks, he expects to be obeyed.

But Elliot Alderson does not make any of his expectations. And perhaps that is what fosters the intrigue.

"Well, I thought I'd ask," he utters, self deprecating (angry) to the wide cityscape. But if asking has done nothing- then well, he'll just have to be a little more firm in his request next time, won't he?

The opportunity presents itself almost faster than he thought it would. Still, Elliot- he savours the name, how the sharp 't' juts out at the end of the three syllable name- Elliot refuses to be caught, evades him with a weave that can almost be called absent. The thought angers him more than he would have thought possible, amuses him in ways he has not felt for a long time- and intrigues him far more than is necessary.

Soon enough, his work as the CTO of Evil Corp has put the olive skinned man out of mind- save for the lingering thought that comes to him in the evening, a wonder of what it will take for that gaunt black-eyed child to give in to him.

And in the interim between their meetings, his lingering thought festers- festers and grows into an twisted obsession. Betwixt the reports and meetings he indulges in his absent fantasies, imagines how Elliot would be made his, how that dark-eyed gaze would finally meet his and submit.

None of this shows at their now frequent meetings- it is almost ritual, the repeated offer, the repeated command that Tyrell gives- the repeated order that is continually disobeyed as Elliot never ceases to find an excuse to escape.

And imagine his surprise when it comes out his dearest Elliot has been working for 'fsociety'.

The man they bring back to him does not look at him, but the quiet defiance radiates from every pore; even now he tries so hard to look unafraid of his fate, of fourty years in prison, of death that could so easily take him.

"Bon soir, Elliot," he murmurs, a parody of the situation that had been the trigger to the domino effect of his curiousity. He wonders faintly if Elliot also remembers that fateful day.

He delights in watching the surprised look he is shot when he orders out the lawyers and guards, a look which is immediately pulled back away from him and back to the marble tiling of the floor. The door is shut behind them, the security cameras switched off- it's a radio silence that even the law cannot penetrate.

"You know," his lip curves up, almost thoughtful, stepping forward and watching how the man backs away from him- Elliot turns his gaze to the wall, and eventually to the ground when Tyrell has him cornered- hunched down and with his head bowed like a trapped mouse, "... You have evaded me for a long time now."

His words are soft, ponderous as he thinks aloud, "I believe... its finally time we stopped playing hide and seek."

There is a long moment of silence- the drama is pierced with a sudden awkwardness that really only Elliot can bring to such situations. A hesitation permeates the air as Elliot finally looks up at him, "... What do you want from me."

"You." He answers with a faint smile, his hands loosely tucked into his pockets. An answer that says so much and so little, and he doubts the smaller man in front of him even realizes fully what he means.

And Elliot knows- knows better than to condemn himself to a gray existence within locked walls and years in the system. And yet. The answer is almost expected, after so many retakes on the word 'no'.

His hand reaches out, caresses the man's cheek and the soft stubble that stutters across hollow cheeks. Elliot jerks away in response, wide eyed and doe-like, but there is nowhere for him to run to, nowhere for him to hide.

"When was that ever a choice, älskling," he whispers, tilts his head and lets the lilting accent of his mother tongue fill his words.

He pins the man to the wall, claims him with a harsh touch, fucks him there in the empty boardroom facing the tall skyscrapers and blue, blue sky. Elliot knows better than to cry out, knows better than to resist, and as the body beneath his loses its stubborn stoicness, gives in and grows slack- Tyrell savours his victory.


End file.
